


Let Me Name The Stars For You

by honey_wheeler



Series: The Threesome in the North [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, F/M, Group Marriage, Multi, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-25
Updated: 2012-06-25
Packaged: 2017-11-08 12:44:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_wheeler/pseuds/honey_wheeler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sansa of old would have been aghast and embarrassed and hesitant. She would have squirmed in discomfort at witnessing the spectacle of Jon and Val before her, sprawled carelessly on their shared bed, Jon’s face buried between Val’s thighs, the wet sounds of his mouth and tongue almost as loud as his appreciative moans, as Val’s whimpers and cries. The Sansa of old would have fled. The Sansa of now wants to push Jon aside and try her own hand, or her own tongue, more accurately, a thought that makes Sansa’s face flame even as it sets heat coiling in her belly. But still, old habits are stubborn to die, and old inhibitions are hard to overcome. Thus the wine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Name The Stars For You

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Show Me How To Follow You, and I'll Obey](https://archiveofourown.org/works/442871) by [thefairfleming](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefairfleming/pseuds/thefairfleming). 



> Follow up to **[we are all hours, we are all days](http://archiveofourown.org/works/432656)** by me (wherein Jon Called the Banners on Val) and **[Show Me How To Follow You, and I'll Obey](http://archiveofourown.org/works/442871)** by Jal80 (wherein Val Called the Banners on Sansa), and now Sansa would like to Call the Banners on Val, with Jon's guidance.

Sansa has gotten herself drunk. It’s laughable, really; she’d never imagined being in the position to more or less seduce herself. Of course, she’d never imagined much of the things she’s done of late. Even only a handful of moons ago, she would have been more than scandalized at all she does now, at the way she allows herself to be touched, even without the knowledge of who it would be doing the touching. Sometimes even now, she thinks on her life the way it is – her life with Jon and Val – and feels a thrill of stunned disbelief. The Sansa of old would have been aghast and embarrassed and hesitant. She would have squirmed in discomfort at witnessing the spectacle of Jon and Val before her, sprawled carelessly on their shared bed, Jon’s face buried between Val’s thighs, the wet sounds of his mouth and tongue almost as loud as his appreciative moans, as Val’s whimpers and cries. The Sansa of old would have fled. The Sansa of now wants to push Jon aside and try her own hand, or her own tongue, more accurately, a thought that makes Sansa’s face flame even as it sets heat coiling in her belly. But still, old habits are stubborn to die, and old inhibitions are hard to overcome. Thus the wine.

Val has shuddered out a release once by the time Sansa plucks up her courage. Jon will lick and suck at her like this forever, Sansa knows, for as many times as he can make Val peak, and then he’ll switch to Sansa and do the same to her, until she and Val are both limp and exhausted, so that they have to push him away with hands and feet. Sansa still isn’t used to the shocking bliss of it when Jon puts his face to her cunt – gods, she’s still not used to even using the words to describe it, and she feels a fresh thrill every time she does – a bliss no less shocking when Val does it, but all the more daring. Sansa had known little of the secret things that went on between men and women, only knowing that the looks shared between her mother and father when they thought no one saw put lie to Septa Mordane’s insistence that coupling was done purely out of duty by a woman wed. She hadn’t known at all of things that went on between only women. But Val’s touches inflame her just as much as Jon’s do, her tongue makes Sansa feel just as wanton. And now Sansa wants to know if her tongue can do the same for Val, and she’s had the wine to make her brave enough to try.

“Jon,” she says, nudging his shoulder with her knuckles. Jon doesn’t raise his head, only makes an inquiring sound as he opens his mouth over Val’s cunt and works it in a way that has Val whimpering and arching off the bed. “Jon, I would like to try.”

“Try what, pet?” Val asks on Jon’s behalf, her voice an obscene pant, one that sends a sweat prickling up Sansa’s spine. She wants to make Val’s voice sound like that. But when she opens her mouth to answer, blood rushes to her cheeks and she’s not sure she can say the words aloud.

“I want to…” she starts, then has to stop and clear her throat to keep from squeaking. “That,” she says, jerking her chin to where Jon still licks at Val as if she’s fresh cream, his eyes closed in pleasure. “I want to do that. To you.” Understanding dawns on Val’s face and she raises her eyebrows, pursing her lips into a surprised oh.

“Jon,” she calls, jostling her knee against him to get his attention. Jon looks up, eyes dazed and heavy-lidded, Val’s pleasure shining on his lips and chin in the firelight. “Sansa has something she would like to try.” Sansa can hear the chuckle in Val’s voice. Jon must hear it as well, because his expression sharpens, and he looks to Sansa curiously. She has to clear her throat again, her cheeks flaming so fiercely it almost hurts. It was easier to say it when he wasn’t looking at her.

“I’d like to try,” she says softly, gesturing vaguely towards him. “That. I…I would like to try tasting Val’s cunt.” The pride she feels at saying the words clear pales next to the heat she feels when Jon’s eyes flutter up for a moment so she sees only white, and his mouth drops open in a heartfelt, heated moan. He shudders hard, his face dipping so that his nose skims along Val beneath him to make her shiver. Then he struggles to collect himself, and Sansa finds her heart contracting like a fist with love for him, with how much he strives to protect her and make her feel safe.

“You’re sure?” he asks.

“Jon Snow, you be quiet,” Val says, and Sansa laughs, nerves edging in to make it sound high and thin.

“I’m sure,” she tells Jon, and his eyelids flutter again. He gives Val one last kiss over her mound and then rolls aside, propping himself on his elbow opposite Sansa and beckoning her with a curled finger, one that she knows he’d had curled in Val only moments ago, the evidence of her pleasure glistening there the way it does on his face. Feeling an uncharacteristic surge of boldness, Sansa leans forward and captures his finger with her lips, drawing it into her mouth and sucking from the base of it all the way up to his fingertip, swiping away the flavor of Val with her tongue. They moan to match, Jon and Val, and Sansa feels a flush of pride that she can affect them so. It’s a novel feeling for her. So often she feels that she must catch up, that she is perpetually a child in her relations with them. She feels nothing like a child now as she looks up at Jon through her lashes and gives him an inviting smile, a seductive edge to her voice that she’d not known herself capable of when she says, “Will you teach me, Jon?” 

“Gods,” Jon breathes. “Yes.”

His hand burns like a brand between her shoulder blades when Sansa takes up the same position he had, lying on her belly between Val’s spread thighs. This is the closest she’s looked at Val like this – the closest she’s ever looked at anyone like this, man or woman – and she’s surprised at how delicate Val’s cunt looks, pale pink and furled, like the petals of a flower. Sansa runs a curious finger over one edge, looking at what she’s only felt before, delighting in the responsive shiver of Val’s body at her touch. Sansa doesn’t think she’ll ever fail to be astonished by the power her touch has for these two people, the people she loves best in all the world. She glances at Jon, and knows what she feels must be writ plain on her face. His smile is impossibly soft, too understanding by half, and Sansa knows that of all the people in the world, Jon would know her heart on this most intimately. That he shares her eternal astonishment at being wanted by another.

“This is lovely,” Val says with a wiggle of her hips, “but such touches are something you’ve tried before and nothing you need to be taught.” Sansa looks up at her, her mouth going a bit dry at the amusement on Val’s face, at the plump of Val’s breasts when she props herself up on her elbows to regard Sansa where she lies at her cunt. Sansa exchanges a grin with Jon, then she takes the hint and leans down, inhaling the scent of Val deep before pressing a soft, chaste kiss over the curls dusted between her thighs. Val’s encouraging sound is drowned out only by Jon’s pained rumble. He shakes his head when Sansa looks at him in question, worrying that she’s done something wrong when she’s barely started.

“You’re perfect,” he rasps, voice like sand and salt. “I’ll remember you both like this until I die.” He leans forward to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear so tenderly it makes her throat close up. “Go on.”

Reassured, Sansa turns back to Val, lowering her mouth to Val’s mound once more. Her kisses grow firmer, more lingering. Again she breathes in Val’s scent, letting it tickle in her nose and sit at the back of her throat, musky and sweet. With another glance to Jon, who nods and crinkles his eyes in encouragement, she parts Val with careful fingers and touches her with a shy, tentative tongue.

“Oh,” Val says, her hands fisting in the furs. Sansa looks up at her, half worrying she did something wrong, but half knowing she did something right, and that Val feels the same ache at the touch of Sansa’s tongue that Sansa always feels at hers. Val cants her hips up to Sansa’s mouth, sighs, “yes, please, do that again,” and Sansa swallows her grin of pride to lower her head and swipe her tongue along Val once more.

She tastes stronger now than she did on Jon’s fingers, stronger and strangely familiar, though Sansa can’t quite figure out why. So focused is she on tasting Val to find what it is of her taste that Sansa recognizes, that she forgets to think about what she’s doing or how it will feel until Val arches into her with a choked whimper.

“Good,” Jon breathes, “good, gods Sansa, so good. Just like that.” He strokes his hand over her hair, only the slightest pressure at the back of her head urging her mouth into Val’s cunt. But Sansa needs no urging, she opens her mouth and drags up with the flat of her tongue.

“Sansa,” Val murmurs. “Sweet, oh, that is sweet, lovely girl.” Sansa has only heard Val say such things with their positions reversed; it’s shocking how much more potent they are when it’s Sansa’s touch and her tongue making Val say them. She works over Val with her tongue, licking and licking at her until her jaw aches and her lips feel slick and slippery. Her own cunt throbs at what she’s doing, at the memory of Val and Jon doing the same to her, the way they would find that one achingly sensitive spot and suck at it. But her memories of that are hazy, she’d been so nearly mindless every time, and now she’s not sure how to carry on.

“Jon?” she asks, looking to him pleadingly. The desire on his face is staggering, but his lips on hers are gentle when he leans forward to kiss her, his tongue delicate as it swipes Val’s pleasure away.

“Here,” he says, sliding his fingers alongside hers, dipping them in Val’s wet heat almost thoughtlessly before circling the small bud above. “Right here.”

“But how…?” 

“However it felt good to you,” he says. She lowers her face again, thinks on what had felt good to her. It feels awkward when she purses her lips, like she’s holding her mouth too tight. She makes an aggravated sound, and Jon laughs. “Here, sweetheart. Like this.” He takes her face in the hand that’s not still cupped at her nape, puts his thumb on one cheek and his fingers on the other and squeezes gently, then drags her lower lip open with his thumb.

“Like this?” Sansa says, though the words come out sounding strange with her mouth held such, and she can’t help but giggle to ruin it so that he must arrange her lips again.

“There,” he says. “Like Val is a ripe peach, and you don’t wish to waste a single drop of juice.”

“Gods,” Sansa breathes, something about the image too evocative by half. She feels Val pulse and flutter under the hands that still part her, responding to Jon’s silky words and silkier touch, to Sansa’s need, to all of it. Sansa drops her face again and sets her mouth where Jon still rubs the barest circles, her tongue slotting between his knuckles until he slides his hand away and her mouth touches only Val.

“A ripe peach,” Jon reminds her, “a ripe, delicious peach that drips down your face and chin.” Sansa shudders at his words, thinking on the last time she had a peach – oh, it was so long ago – and seals her lips over Val to suck. Val’s response is instant and all too gratifying, the flesh at Sansa’s mouth and under her fingers twitching and throbbing with damp heat, her moan vibrating through her and into Sansa.

“Gods, yes,” Jon moans, his fingers rubbing at Sansa’s nape. “Yes, sweetling, you’re perfect.” Sansa’s own cunt feels hot and twitchy, only worsening with each suck she takes at Val, each long lick of her tongue, until she’s rubbing her hips into the bed as she works her face against Val.

“Shouldn’t I be the one to decide from perfect?” Val gasps out with a laugh. Jon’s laugh answers her own, and when Sansa peeks up she can see him pressing apologetic kisses to Val’s belly, the bristle of his beard scraping pink patches on Val’s pale skin.

“Sorry, love,” he says. “Shall I make it up to you?”

“You can attempt it,” Val tells him, arch as ever.

“Tell Val how sweet she tastes, Sansa,” he says, and that wipes away every bit of archness Val possesses, she cries out and strains up into Sansa’s mouth. Jon’s hand tightens in Sansa’s hair in response, he chuckles against Val’s belly, the sound of it muffled and soft. “You hear that, Sansa? I think she wants to hear.” Val makes another cry, a strangled sound that goes straight to Sansa’s cunt where she rubs it against the mattress. She’s no idea how to say such things, the way Jon and Val always do, Jon’s words sweet and Val’s filthy. She feels Jon press a kiss to her forehead, feels him nose through the hair at her temple encouragingly.

“She tastes better than I’d ever dreamed,” Sansa says honestly. “Like something familiar that I can’t quite catch. Like…like…like home.” Jon groans at that. Val’s hand joins his at the back of Sansa’s head, and together they urge her mouth into Val’s cunt again. Sansa lets them guide her gladly, dipping her tongue to lap inside Val like she remembers them doing to her, then finding that sensitive bud again and suckling, rubbing her tongue at the base of it until Val is writhing and wriggling and making hitchy, whining sounds. Sansa is the cause of those sounds. Sansa is making Val writhe and squirm. It is beyond heady, more dizzying than any wine.

“Slide your fingers inside her,” Jon breathes. “Give her something to hold.” Barely able to draw breath, Sansa obeys, curving two fingers into Val’s cunt and feeling it squeeze instantly around them. Val is trembling violently now, her muscles quivering and jerking.

“Sansa,” she cries out. “Jon. Please, now.” As if her own words give her permission, Val’s hips buck, and a quivering moan sounds from her throat. Sansa’s fingers are soaked, covered in slick heat. She slides them free, offers them blindly above her head to Jon and replaces them with her tongue, lapping and drinking at Val’s pleasure while Jon sucks her fingers into the wet heat of his mouth, licking them clean the way she licks into Val’s cunt and gets every drop of her release, as if Val is a peach – a ripe, delicious peach that drips down Sansa’s face and chin. Jon’s fingers find the bud of Val’s sex again and circle over her, his knuckles bumping Sansa’s forehead as she licks and licks into Val, over and over, thinking she could never get enough, until Val is peaking a second time, and still Sansa sucks at her, pushing her face as far into Val’s cunt as she can get.

“Stop,” Val laughs, after Sansa’s licked her entirely clean, after every shiver has left her body. “Sansa, enough, I can’t bear it!” Sansa doesn’t wish to stop, though, and she strains at Val for a moment when Val pushes her away, before she remembers herself and feels her cheeks flush at her own shamelessness. “You’re as bad as he is,” Val chuckles, and Jon winks at her. It deflates her embarrassment enough that she can laugh too.

“I’m sorry,” she says. She allows Val to tug her up for a kiss, wondering if Val feels the same throb of desire that Sansa does at kissing with the evidence of her pleasure still on Sansa’s tongue. She must, because her fingers steal under Sansa’s smallclothes to dip inside her and rub, painting Sansa’s cunt and thighs with the slick heat of her need.

“Don’t be sorry,” Val answers. “Just tell me what made you wish to try this tonight so that I may do it again and again.”

“Wine,” Sansa admits, turning her face to Jon and asking for his kiss as well, opening her mouth to him as she parts her legs further for Val.

“Wine?” he asks when he pulls away, confusion on his face. Sansa nods, feeling suddenly shy.

“I’d wanted to do this but… It just seemed so… I suppose I was too shy. Too inhibited. So I seduced myself,” she confesses. After a moment of surprise, Jon laughs, sharp and sudden, and Val joins him. The sound of it is infectious – and Sansa has to admit that it’s quite funny – and soon she’s laughing as well, all three piled atop each other, giggling like children.

“Jon,” Val says. “Next time we do the accounts, we’ll need to put by more wine, if this is what it brings.”

“Agreed,” Jon says, so fervently that Sansa laughs again, and could not be gladder to be the Sansa of old no longer.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [We'll Build Our Altar Here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/493966) by [thefairfleming](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefairfleming/pseuds/thefairfleming)




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